What're Friends For?
by BabyJesusButtPlug
Summary: [Female Stiles!] "Well... What're friends for, huh?" Derek shoots her a small smile, but he doesn't like that look of hurt lingering in her bright, amber orbs.


Stiles' Friday night goes from being a fun night out, to being the second worse night of her life. The first, being her mother's death.

It starts as soon as she, Allison and Lydia walk through the front door of the Stilinski household, and just spirals downwards from there.

Very quickly...

The girls reach the living room, Stiles is leading the way and freezing first at the horrific sight that greets her. Her eyes widen when she feels the other two stop beside her and gasp loudly in unison. Because now, she knows she's not the only one seeing it. Because now, she's knows she's not just imagining. And she really wishes she was.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Stiles roars out in the utmost outrage. Her body trembles, but only because she's too angry to actually fucking cry right now.

"Stiles -" Derek's eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. And in his arms, he holds a certain Sheriff, who happens to be bleeding out through the deep slashes and teeth marks littering his every piece of showing skin. His clothes are tattered, almost shred to bits, but it's the fact that the wolf's still in his Beta form that gets her on edge, he knows.

But for some reason, he freezes, can't bare to tell her what really happened, because he can't ever bare to see her suffer. Not that he'll ever tell her that.

"Did you -" Stiles stalks forward, halts halfway when she sees the terrible, bloody mess clearly in the dim lighting. "You -" She glares at the wolf. "What did you do!?" She's angry again as she ignores her fears of the stupid sourwolf to shove him violently away from her father.

Derek's shocked, doesn't know what to do as he stumbles back and watches a daughter cradle her blood-soaked, unconscious father. "Stiles, I -"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!" Stiles shrieks, almost screaming at the top of her lungs. "AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Allison finally snaps out of her stupor and springs into action. She grabs the small throwing knife she always keeps in her left boot (just in case) and holds it up to the wolf as she advances towards him. "You need to leave." She says, tries to sound as firm and as threatening as she can. "Now."

Lydia springs towards Stiles and the Sheriff, her phone already dialling for 911.

Derek finally (quickly and silently) leaves, but not without one last, aching look towards Stiles.

[Beacon Hills Hospital - An Hour Later...]

"He's gonna be okay." Melissa smiles brightly, looks relieved mostly. "Lucky you got there in time, he didn't lose too much blood, and none of his wounds are all that deep. It'll hurt when he wakes up, and will do for a few weeks after, but he shouldn't be left with any permanent scarring."

Stiles nods, let's out a somewhat relieved, though, mostly tired sigh. "Thanks, Melissa."

Melissa's smiles widens. "Don't worry so much, Stiles. He's stronger than he looks."

Stiles manages a small smile. "Yeah, he is."

"Stiles!"

Stiles turns around just in time to see her best friend bounding towards her.

Scott literally throws himself at her, holds her tightly. "Oh, my God! I am so sorry! I, uh, I got held up." He shoots her a look, the usual "werewolf stuff" look and Stiles simply nods in response, knows they'll talk about it later. "Are you okay? Is John okay!?"

"He's gonna be fine. He should be awake in a couple of hours. I put him out so he doesn't have to go through the worst of the pain." Melissa tells her son, while Stiles sends the older woman a grateful look.

Scott let's out a huge breath of relieve. "Holy crap! Thank God!"

Stiles shoots him an odd look. He seems oddly flustered and gittery to her. 'What is he hiding?' She decides she's badger him later, when she knows for sure her father's okay. Oh, and if he knows about the supernatural world after Derek's little stunt.

Derek.

Stupid Derek!

Ugh!

Stiles grits her teeth, bites back the anger as she thinks of his stupid, annoying, handsome face. 'God! What is the hell wrong with me!? He almost killed my dad and I STILL think he's hott! NOT cool, Stilinski!'

Ugh!

Stupid Stiles!

[Beacon Hills High School - The Next Day...]

"How's your dad doing?" Scott asks, tries to hide his anxiety, tries to keep up with his dirty, little lie.

Fuck, he feels awful. And that's not even a good enough word to describe how shit he feels about the entire thing.

"Yeah, he's surprisingly good. He doesn't seem to remember anything. Which, I guess, is kinda good, too." Stiles says.

Scott nods. "Right... Derek."

Stiles arches a brow. "Call me crazy here, but I thought you'd be at least a LITTLE pissed off about what happened last night."

"I am." Scott almost squeaks out, quickly coughs to cover himself. "I mean, I'm just thinking about what we should do. Derek pretty much kicked my ass, now that he's an Alpha. And it's not as if we can get him arrested... Again."

"True." Stiles smirks at the memory. "Alright, well, we'll figure it out. We always do, right?"

Scott forces out a small smile and nods. "Right."

It's the next Friday night, and again, Stiles' world just crumbles a little more.

It's Scott's birthday, his eighteenth.

And Danny sees them good on his promise to get them into the Jungle nightclub. It's a gay club, yeah, but neither of them, nor Allison or Lydia or even Jackson care as they follow their friend to the bar. After all, it's pretty much the only place the teenagers can drink freely until their hearts all content.

And that's exactly what they all do. Some more so than others.

Stiles, NOT being one of them, however. She drinks a couple of shots and a few beers, but other than that, she's not in the mood.

The others seem to drift off on their own little late night adventures. Lydia and Jackson take to the dancefloor almost immediately after their first round of shots. They then, willingly, of course, excitedly, even) become lost in both the music and the mass of glittering, lit up bodies on the dancefloor.

Danny, too, easily finds himself an overly attractive young man to dance with.

And Stiles doesn't know where the heck Allison is, but she doesn't seem to be with Scott, who suddenly appears at the bar beside her.

"Heeey, Stiles!" He practically sings out as he flops down onto the stool to her left.

Stiles chuckles, arches a brow at her idiot brother. "Are you drunk?"

Scott nods, smiles excitedly. "I drank, like, SO much. Apparently, werewolves CAN get drunk, we just need a shitload of alcohol to do so."

"Well, you're still very coherent with your sentences. So, good for you." Stiles smirks when he beams proudly at her words.

"You want another?" Scott asks, motions to her near enough empty beer bottle.

"Nah, thanks." Stiles wrinkles her nose lightly. "If it's cool. I think I'm gonna head out. I'm not really feeling the party. Sorry, dude."

"Oh, no... It's cool." Only Scott's highly disappointed face tells her an entirely different story.

"Hey, how about WE do something? Just the two of us?" Stiles asks, slaps on her usual bright smile.

"Yeah?" Scott smiles hopefully.

"Yeah. Totally." Stiles nods, pulls him into a quick hug before hopping off her stool. "I'll call you tomorrow, Scotty."

"Stiles, wait..."

Stiles halts when he gently grabs her wrist, turns to face him and arches a questioning brow.

"I..." Scott can't bare to lie right to her face anymore. She means more to him than that. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

Stiles face wrinkles with utter confusion. "What? What're you sorry for?" Her eyes widen in both horror and realisation, then. "Oh, God! Is that why it took you so long to call me back last night? Did you hurt someone, Scott?" Because even in the utter chaos, she stills remembers it was full moon.

Scott nods limply, his eyes cast down to the floor in utter shame.

"Oh, God! Okay! No! It's okay!" Stiles slowly begins to panic, but thankfully, he doesn't let her get too far.

"Stiles," Scott gently grabs her wrist again, mainly to gain her attention and shut her up for one second. "I DID hurt someone. But they're NOT dead." He clarifies that quickly, right now, before she has a nervous breakdown on his behalf. No, he'll let her save that for herself when he tell her the rest of what happened.

Stiles snaps out of her panic, instantly glares at him, then slaps him up the side of the head.

"Ow! Hey! What was that for!?" Scott whines, glaring rather pathetically.

"Say that first!" Stiles snaps.

"Okay! God! Sorry!" Scott huffs.

"So, come on, then," Stiles arches an expectant brow. "Who was it?"

Scott gulps, then, finally opens his mouth to spill the beans.

Off all the things she could have done when Scott finally told her it was her father, Stiles didn't think she'd simply just stare at him for a moment before turning around and calmly walking out of the club.

He tries to follow her, of course he does. But Allison, bless her golden heart, intervenes, holds the wolf back instead. Obviously, she's smart enough or just senses the other girl's silent anger.

Whatever it is, it works for Stiles.

[Derek's Loft - The Next Morning...]

Stiles knows she'll forgive Scott. Eventually. She always does. No matter what he does. He's her best friend, after all. Practically her adoptive brother. But everything was still all too fresh for her last night, her emotions and thoughts running wild. Well, even more so than usual anyway.

Instead, Stiles let's everything sink in for the night, and then, in the morning, she rises early. She knows the sour wolf is a light sleeper and somewhat of an early bird. Unlike her.

Stiles stands in the elevator, waits patiently. She needs to make things right with Derek before she so much as even thinks about talking to Scott.

Derek already seems to be waiting for her, probably having sensed her, when she finally slides the elevator doors along. She steps into the loft to see him standing there, facing her.

"Hi..." Stiles smiles sheepishly.

"Hi." Derek stares at her, seems like he's trying to read her.

"I, uh," And now that she's here, Stiles doesn't actually know what to say, or even where to begin. So she begins with an apology instead. Knows she owes him that much, at least. "I'm sorry..."

Derek frowns, looks slightly confused.

"Seriously, I'm REALLY sorry." Stiles says, clearly misunderstands his expression.

"What for?" Derek finally asks, sounds just as confused as he looks.

"Uh..." Stiles shoots him an odd look, then suddenly seems to realise he's still trying to cover for Scott. "Derek, I KNOW you didn't hurt my dad." She says seriously.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles scoffs out a laugh. "Scott told me everything."

Derek's shoulders sag upon hearing those words. "Stiles -"

"Why?" Stiles stares curiously at him, tries to ignore her throat tightening.

"Scott's just a kid." Derek says, like it's the most obvious answer. "It wasn't his fault. He's new at all of this. He lost control. And he hurt someone he cares about. It's not like we all haven't done it at some point."

Stiles puffs out a little laugh and nods. "Well, I agree with you on that one."

"So... You understand?" Derek arches a brow, looks rather wary of her answer.

Stiles nods, smiles as she tries to ignore the tears stinging her eyes. "You let me believe that it was you who hurt my dad, because you knew how much it would hurt if I knew the truth."

"Well... What're friends for, huh?" Derek shoots her a small smile, but he doesn't like that look of hurt lingering in her bright, amber orbs.

Stiles' smile widens slightly as she edges closer until she's standing right in front of him. "It does hurt." She says, like she's reading his fricking mind or something! "But for some reason, it hurt worse when I thought it was you."

Derek sighs heavily, seems to be reading her thoughts, if the (adorable) little scowl he's wearing is anything to go by. "Stiles -"

Stiles cuts him off by taking one of his hands in both of own and clinging tightly to it as she speaks. "Scott's not the only one I care about, Derek. And he's not the only one who can hurt me... At least, not anymore."

Derek gulps silently at the meaningful look she gives him. "I care about you, too. That's why I didn't say anything." He says, tries to sound calmer than he actually is. He wonders briefly if she can hear his racing pulse, it's so loud in his own ears.

Stiles blinks away her tears, then, leans up on her tiptoes and lays a quick, but soft kiss to his cheek. "Thank you." She barely mumbles it out as she tries to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks, though, she can hardly look away at the sudden intensity of his ever bright bluey-green orbs.

For a split second, Derek's brain shuts down, but it's enough for him to lean forward without even thinking about it.

Stiles freezes for a short moment, but only out of shock. And then, she's returning the kiss, his lips surprisingly gentle against her own. She smiles against his mouth, can't help it as his stubble lightly scratches at her skin.

Derek's skin prickles with heat when he feels her sliding her hands slowly up his bare arms, wishes she'd shown up just before he finally decided to pull a stupid t-shirt on just so she can feel the rest of him, as well. He presses a hand to the back of her neck, pulls her closer, while the other hand grabs at her waist and gently squeezes.

Stiles sighs quietly into their kiss, which only grows more heated for a few moments before - much to her disappointment - he finally pulls away for air. She pants lightly against his lips, and he against hers, feels dizzy, but in a totally wonderful way.

"Sorry." Derek whispers, and quickly has to justify himself when a look of hurt flashes across her face. "No, not for kissing you."

Stiles gives a small smile, the blush across her cheeks only growing all the more.

"I just," Derek sighs heavily, presses a short, but sweet kiss to her lips. "I couldn't help myself anymore..." 


End file.
